The first release of emerging record label Hoodoo Music succeeds in their mission.  Anja Wodsak, founder of the label, set out to find “artists inspired by the roots of American music.”  My guess is that Anja’s definition of roots rock would encompass elements of R & B, Country, and a dash of folk.  Nathan Maxwell’s debut EP blends all those “American” elements.  However, Nathan’s swagger and his vocal styling are more reminiscent of a British import, and dare I say this, Mick Jagger in his Beggars Banquet days.

The disc starts out with “Brooklyn Bound,” a blues tinged number.  The song’s raw sound really works on this style of music.  The production of the EP tried to capture Nathan in his natural surroundings and the record is able to come across as a semi-live recording.  That is the essence of blues and though the record is not an all-out blues assault, the sound is highly effective.

“What It Means (To Be In Love With You)” is driven by a more soulful Maxwell (no, not that Maxwell…Nathan Maxwell!).  This track is the reason why I even attempt to make the comparison to Sir Mick. Plus, anyone who can turn the word “about” into four syllables like Maxwell does on this track had to have learned from some of the masters of singing like Jagger.

“Ain’t No Turning Backs, Just Mine” is also a fun little track, complete with catchy lyrics and a humorous title.  Though the lyrics speak of a lost love, Nathan truly masters the “laughter is the best medicine” slogan by injecting a bit of humor into the meanderings of that sad affair.  The last track, “Here I Go,” is more of a country song in the vein of a Jeff Healey or John Hiatt rendering.  The steel guitar adds a special touch on the song.  The track also progresses into an all out jam session after Nathan quips the title of the tune and is a great way to put the polish off the four song set.

I liked what I heard, though an EP clocking in at 14 minutes doesn’t exactly help a reviewer make many pointed criticisms.  My biggest suggestion for Nathan and any new album in the works would be to take some chances, broadening the horizon of this alt-country/blues fare.  Besides, nobody likes a tease.

Woah – a concept album that might actually be held as cool rather than nerdish or self-indulgent? The track titles found on this record and the album name itself, with their common theme and evidently thought-out imagery, complete with relevant quotes and essays in the artwork all point to one thing: deliberation. Unfortunately for Buried Inside, this may be lost on some – although heralded by many – which ultimately would put them in the uncomfortable position of compromise, had Relapse not taken the gamble of releasing such a record. The pay-off, however, is a big one.

Chronoclast (or, Chronoclast: Selected Essays on Time-Reckoning and Auto-Cannibalism to give it the full title – the album deals with the concept of time as politics, an overwhelmingly marketed and controlled manipulation of existence itself; to quote Marx, as have Buried Inside on the artwork for this release, “To work at a machine, the workman should be taught from childhood in order that he may learn to adapt his own movements to the uniform and unceasing motion of automation”), is the Canadian hardcore group’s third full-length, although their first for the world renowned Relapse – home of the mighty Mastodon and Dillinger Escape Plan (and Cephalic Carnage, Pig Destroyer, High on Fire, Burnt By The Sun….the list goes on). And they have achieved something quite special.

Surprisingly, for a record made up of constituent parts of a whole (i.e. the tracks are not to be considered as ‘tracks’ as such, merely marking points for the full 40 minutes of the album), the album manages to avoid the sensation of too much of the same thing; in fact, the amount of material covered by one body of work is admirable – ranging from gloomy post rock string arrangements to Isis-style crush, to frantic metalcore to thought-provoking intrumental interludes – and the very soul of the theme is inherit in each in an effective manner.

Opening with a disorientating panned flicker, with sombre strummed chords and an e-bow solo on the self-explanatory ‘Introduction’, album is devastating; the production (handled by Mastodon studio man Matt Bayles) is perfect for every track, giving each the density and clarity that the music deserves. Second track ‘Time as Ideology’ (opening the common lingual theme of the tracks – ‘Time as…’) is a stunningly constructed Explosions In The Sky-gone-metal style attack with a wonderful breadth in its octaved guitars and strident dynamics. This gives way immediately to the more introspective ‘Time as Methodology’, a suspenseful and moody instrumental passage, in which the tension is achingly powerful.

The ‘Explosions In The Sky-gone-metal’ description uttered earlier is perhaps the most effective I can offer, although really Buried Inside have a sound reminiscent of a much broader scope of bands, integrating elements of Envy, Neurosis, Mogwai, Converge, Unearth and Boris among others, which places them in the rather difficultly broad field of ‘aggressive music’ as claims the press release for this album (although that in itself is perhaps a little too limiting, as the quiet interwoven dexterity of ‘Time as Surrogate Religion’ suggests).

After experiencing the musical and philosophical conversion to their cause by Chronoclast, I can safely and honestly say that this is less a work of a ‘band’ in the traditional sense, more a body of thinkers who happen to voice their opinions with guitars. Coincidentally, they do it astoundingly.

Yet the latest overseas act determined to conquer the U.S. scene, Leicester, England’s Kasabian is off to a good start. Having only released their S/T debut in the UK in September 2004, the album has already been certified Platinum (300,000 copies sold) with over 100,000 units moved in just the first two weeks, and has generated a number of hit singles including “Clubfoot,” “L.S.F.,” “Reason Is Treason,” “Processed Beats” and the most recent Top 10 smash “Cutt Off.” Here in the U.S., “Clubfoot” is already climbing Modern Rock charts, and with two major Spring tours scheduled, including February’s The Music, which will run through March’s SXSW in Austin, Texas and May’s Black Rebel Motorcyle tour, not to mention a performance on Jimmy Kimmel Live in March and The Late Late Show w/Craig Ferguson in May, Kasabian is primed for breakout success.

So, what’s all the fuss about? Well, considering the recent trend of imported music, i.e., Snow Patrol, Keane, Franz Ferdinand, The Streets, Muse, The Libertines, etc., Kasabian’s psychedelic blend of guitar-driven indie rock, electronic beats and political angst easily sets the band apart from their peers, even if they are not that far removed from the late 80’s/early 90’s dance-rock movement pioneered by the Stone Roses, Primal Scream or Happy Mondays. For those not weaned on such artists, Kasabian’s S/T debut may be a more liberating musical experience, evoking moments of Prodigy, the Chemical Brothers, Blur and Oasis, thus accounting somewhat for the fevered reactions by the UK, whose critics and listeners have hailed Kasabian as the “next big thing.” For those of us stateside, it remains to be seen whether or not Kasabian will actually live up to the hype, but given the quality of such readymade singles as “L.S.F. (Lost Souls Forever)”, “Cutt Off” and “Reason Is Treason,” the band is definitely armed and dangerous. Add to that such tracks as the scorching opener “Clubfoot”, the simplistic, yet intoxicating “Processed Beats”, the atmospheric “I.D.” and the intriguing instrumental “Ovary Stripe,” and you have an album that is much more than a one-trick pony. On the flipside however, the record isn’t without its faults and can hardly be declared a masterpiece. After all, though impressively self-produced with additional production and mixing provided by Jim Abiss (The Music, Unkle, DJ Shadow), the production could have been much stronger, while the songwriting at times, leaves little to the imagination. Nevertheless, in the greater scheme of things, these are minor complaints when compared to the potential impact that Kasabian could have on music, both today and in the years to come…

And I guess the real question I’d ask is merely, why an EP? Who came up with the EP concept in the first place and when and why can a band justify putting out a so-called EP? Pure pleasure? Cash in on some new found fame, what about some old fame? Look cool? Prove to all the doubters that the band has the upper hand on the record label and that they’re now calling the shots?

With We Will Become Silhouettes, a somewhat interesting, but generally unfilling release, Postal Service hint at the effortless cash grab. Title track, ‘We Will Become Silhouettes’, wasn’t even the strongest track that Give Up had to offer, so a separate release with a somewhat meager remix doesn’t exactly get me running to the record stores. ‘Nothing Better’ was one of Give Up’s better songs, but the remix doesn’t exactly flow to the ears a la the original. With only one new song, ‘Be Still My Heart’, the EP’s ultimate existence remains a mystery to me. I’m all about these guys, hell I think Give Up, given its geographic separation was a work of genius and needless to say, rumors of a Postal Service EP kept me up a little later than 10pm on some nights, but as a whole, I’m baffled.

So essentially, one has a 4 song EP with the weaker songs from Give Up, remixed, and one new song that is very Postal Service indeed? It’s a mystery that will remain with me up until the moment I employ the postman to mail this to whichever sucker wants it on eBay.

The question really is, where to start with Herb Alpert? For one, he’s about as Mexican as Canadian maple syrup, and to prove he didn’t really know Mexican fashion, the cover of The Lonely Bull shows him in the least Mexican clothing item ever: a red cardigan. That said, Alpert’s decision to play Mexican-American music for the wide-eyed tourist-type was nothing short of genius.

As the story goes, Alpert, at the age of 26, had driven to Tijuana with Jerry Moss and having been moved by the bull rings in Tijuana, headed back to California one evening, knowing that the sound he’d been looking for on his trumpet had arrived. His first single, ‘The Lonely Bull’, recorded with Moss ended up selling over 1 million copies in 6 weeks. Alpert had created his own groove in the musical landscape, instrumental Mexican-American music. As vacationing had started to boom, Mexico was becoming more popular and Alpert, in a stroke of pure genius, created the exact sound that an American would picture coming out of Mexico.

Now, 43 years later, record collectors can’t sift through a box of records without seeing that beautiful girl on the cover of Whipped Cream and Other Delights. Alpert, who still claims that he ‘doesn’t even list to mariachi music’, and his posse are some of the most well known faces in music, and it all started with the 26 year old son of a Jewish taylor spending a day in Mexico with his pal Jerry.

No one can deny visions of Mexico dancing through their head as the trumpet rings itself out on the opening track, ‘The Lonely Bull’. As the crowds are heard and the Mexican guitar plucks itself in time with the trumpets, its all oranges and yellows from then on. The rattle of the snares and the crowd noises create a complete atmosphere, totally false no doubt, but perfect for an American listening thousands of miles away from the real thing. Picture an insurance salesman, coming home from another bad day, only to throw the needle down on ‘Tijuana Sauerkraut’, lean back in his chair with his eyes closed and be magically whisked off to the distant shores of Tijuana where he’s 21 again and his wife is hot and bothered.

From church bells ringing out during ‘El Lobo’, from the groovy rhythms of ‘Desafinado’ to the marching beat of ‘Mexico’, the entire album exists as a slice of a lifestyle that one can only dream about. ‘Struttin’ With Maria’ brings to mind barefoot boardwalks and day long parades. ‘Acapulco 1922′ is all surfing and waves, a dainty pop song with ice cream and Coca-Cola oozing out of it.

For anyone who’s ever dreamed of spending night after night drinking in the streets with their very own band or anyone wishing to seduce a Mexican señorita in the coming months, The Lonely Bull is a must. For those of you who owned the 45 back in the day, this newly remastered album is an absolute must have.

As a whole, the package is worth the money. The booklet contains great information about the recording process and some wonderful black and white photos. SHOUT! Records has retained the sound of Alpert’s trumpet wonderfully and The Lonely Bull is just one of many Alpert re-issues planned this year. Thankfully, as noted in the booklet, “No bulls were harmed in the making of this record.”

In the coming weeks, watch for 2 more reviews of Alpert’s other classic South of the Border, as well as Lost Treasures, a collection of rare and unreleased tracks.

“We’re the Bitter Little Cider Apples / Sparkling in your glass”—so says the band in their self-titled theme song on this 2003 release. The description is fitting. If you were to place the Bitter Little Cider Apples on the spectrum of alcoholic beverages, hard cider would be a good choice: it’s light, it’s sweet, it tingles, it’s for dessert, it’s fun. Likewise, the BLCA are a simple, entertaining band that has an innocence that’s rare these days. Sort of like a Phish/Moxy Früvus hybrid, except less jamming and less comedy. They don’t fit into any genre; they’re just a good rock band. Their point of differentiation isn’t production method, idiosyncratic singing, use of unconventional instruments, or song structure. None of these things describes BLCA. They are a traditional rock 4-piece with British accents, and they dress up like naval officers on the back cover. O.K., so the BLCA probably have an infatuation with Sergeant Pepper, but the affinity with the Beatles really stops there too. The simple fact of the matter is that the BLCA play pop rock with great hooks.

After the pretty string intro we get with “Intro”, the band makes a stunning entrance with “Antique Happiness.” The pace is fast, the guitars smack with satisfaction, and the bass line is about the most exciting and fun-filled one that I’ve heard. After a mad-dash surf guitar solo and the chorus has worked into your brain a few times, we’re set for an entertaining evening with the album.

Unfortunately, while melodies remain smart and energy stays high, the band continually slaps down too many verses and choruses and drags out 2 minute masterpieces into 4 minute pop songs that get boring. There’s only so much A B A B A BA B A that you can take. By the end of the album, that wonderful first impression has been remembered but sullied.

However, some highlights should be noted. “Reality” has an interesting off-key acoustic guitar bit that serves as the foundation of the track. “Scented Garden” careens along at such a fast pace that it really sounds different from anything else on the album. The musicians must have some stamina to go on at this pace for an entire track. “Park the Car” has a great, unexpected chorus, and “Sad Lady” also shines. My favorite track, though, is still “Crocodile Head” which was on the International League of Telepathic Explorers compilation that drew me to the BLCA in the first place.

I guess the BLCA’s simplicity and genre-less-ness might be a component of their age. From the looks of it, all of these guys are at least in their mid-30’s. It’s a sad fact that the best rock and roll has always been produced by youth. The BLCA are good writers and good musicians, but they seem to lack a sense of style (and length) that the best in the business have. I guess simplicity can only go so far.

In the early 1970’s, Nigerian Fela Kuti developed Afrobeat by fusing Yoruba and Ashanti chants and traditional African polyphonic rhythms with riffs borrowed from the American funk popular at the time and jazzy freeform horn solos sustained over several bars. Neither this unique stylistic foundation, nor Afrobeat’s association with radical Leftism have changed much over time. Nomo, the Detroit area’s foray into Afrobeat, may not offer much in the area of innovation on their recent self-titled release. Points they lose for lack of novelty, however, are more than recovered with their tight chops and solid musicianship.

Even if they’re not reinventing the Afrobeat wheel, Nomo certainly aren’t guilty of laziness or lack of creativity on their debut. Their syncopated horn stabs are just as hot as they need to be, and I was not a bit disappointed by the deftness of their soloists. Along with an impressive array of percussionists, including a Ghanaian master-drummer (whatever that means), they also throw some unusual twists into the mix, such as a harp solo on a few tracks, and a soulful Motown vocalist on “Moving in Circles” and “La La La,” whose contribution is a nice addition to the otherwise entirely instrumental disc. If I can’t honestly say they have bested their contemporaries in Antibalas, they do hold their own with them stride for stride, or sweaty frenetic dance step for sweaty frenetic dance step, as it were. Nomo actually features members of Antibalas and fans of that particular Afrobeat Orchestra will not be disappointed by this one.

Forgive me if I sound like a raving fan-boy, but this whole Afrobeat phenomenon has really got me excited. I can’t help but compare it to the first few times I heard ska back in the mid-90’s (must be all the horns). Of course by that time ska was in it’s “third wave” of popularity. Likewise, Afrobeat has been around for a while, but I consider myself fortunate for the opportunity to be introduced to this relatively obscure genre at all, even through the works of latecomers such as Nomo. If you haven’t hopped on this train yet, this disc is not a bad place to start at all. The songs on Nomo are shorter and more melodic than most Afrobeat, and hence provide a good introduction for more pop-oriented music listeners.

Fela Kuti died of AIDS in 1997, but his music and his message live on. Fela will always be remembered as the father of Afrobeat and one of the most original voices in twentieth-century African music. Critics may not be writing about Nomo’s post-afrobeat with a Motor City twist 30 years from now. But rock and roll isn’t about preserving itself for historical posterity. It’s about dancing and having fun and sticking it to the man - precisely my sentiments on this album.

How can someone write a review for an album for which there are no words that describe its beauty? How can any simple human being be expected to produce an analysis and examination of a record that a mind – evidently – so evolved past my own created? How can Venetian Snares have written an album that not only marks the best work he has ever released, but that will probably never be even equalled?

Put simply, Aaron Funk has made an album that transcends everything we understand as ‘music’. Judging from the amount of negative comments generated by this album’s release, Rossz Csillag Allat Született is a record that will evoke wide-eyed confusion in the common man, and wide-eyed admiration beyond words in anyone who has honestly taken in music in the true sense.

That is to say, this is not achieved in the same way as have Snares’ previous works such as Find Candace and Horse and Goat, in creating a bizarre and vicious impenetrable wall of noise based loosely around what we have come to understand as ‘breakcore’ or ‘IDM’. Rossz Csillag Allat Született, conversely, has been crafted from a breathtakingly beautiful selection of recordings by Aaron himself, performed on – among other instruments – the violin and the trumpet (both of which he learned to play specifically for this record). The album started out as a post modernist project, eventually melded with breakbeats that frantically swoop and stutter around the eastern rhythms and beautifully crafted textures.

These eastern rhythms are an important part of the record has a whole. Without wanting to undermine the creative process by clumsily attempting to paraphrase it (read the essay on the record sleeve to fully understand this), this record was inspired by a recent trip to Hungary, where one microcosmically ticking second transformed Aaron’s musical outlook. And then Rossz Csillag Allat Született was born. The track titles, like the album title, are appropriately named in Hungarian and feature perhaps the most beautiful imagery evoked on any recent record: the album title translates as ‘Born Under A Bad Star’, whereas track titles include the wonderfully poetic ‘Lone Dove’, ‘Two Doves’ and ‘Nobody’s Theme’ as well as standout track ‘Hajnal’ (Dawn).

The themes of loss and grief are awe-inspiringly poignant, with sorrowful string arrangements underlying despondent monologues in a style not unlike Godspeed You Black Emperor!, while the engaging and vociferous jungle-style breakbeats twist and turn loops around the brain in a wholly incomprehensible way. Put simply (and in layman’s terms), imagine, if you will, a mix between Aphex Twin at his most misanthropic and Schostakovic at his most mournful, and you will have an image along similar lines to the exquisiteness of Rossz Csillag Allat Született.

Opening with the dramatic, piano-based ‘Szervi Elégtelenség’, which segues effortlessly into the Tchaikovsky-esque orchestration of ‘Szerencsétlen’, the breakbeats don’t appear for what seems like a worryingly long time for a record released on Planet Mu (indeed, the first few minutes of this record could have quite easily existed on Naxos). The stunningly spine-tingling ‘Hajnal’ is quite simply unsurpassable by any one, by any stretch of the imagination; here Funk manages to almost militarily cut the beats to the exact millisecond of orchestrated event and the whole synchronised affair simultaneously batters and soars past the listener’s brain like the aforementioned Aphex/Schostakovic concoction (that is, not to resort to the clumsy comparison between RDJ and Snares, more to effectively describe the subtleties and lack thereof of the electronic elements, especially of the percussive sections).

Despite all of these kind words, nothing that I have written here captures, or does justice to, this album. Without making up an alien language to describe the sentiment evoked by this album, there is quite simply no way that I can think of to translate the wide-eyed amazement and heart-meltingly magnificent response that Rossz Csillag Allat Született induces in my soul.

Buy, copy, download, steal (well, don’t do anything except buy – except perhaps become a music journalist and request a free promo copy) this record. I need say no more.

Recently I complained about the concept of the EP, wondering what the hell it’s exactly for, and why musicians really decide to release these minor spurts of music when, in reality, they’re unnecessary. Well, for every action, there is a reaction, and Sam Beam can lay claim to my latest batch of humble pie, because he’s proved that EPs can be amazing, regardless if there are only a few songs. Woman King is perhaps Beam’s most ambitious work to date, picking up an electric guitar, and adding his sister to the loop. But don’t go shaving your beards just yet; Beam’s swampwater beats and unmistakable voice is perfectly intact.

Opener ‘Woman King’ sounds like a miniature STOMP rehearsal as sticks smack around in the background, Beam’s slide guitar takes center stage, and a simple, yet genius bass guitar fills in the background.  ‘Jezebel’ is another gem, employing multiple guitars layered over each other and introducing listeners to Beam’s equally talented sister, Sarah. ‘Freedom Hangs Like Heaven’ is a foot-tapping bayou beat maker that breathes ‘Teeth in the Grass’ from Endless Numbered Days. Beam is in full flight as his voice takes on an almost scat tone, the guitar picks up steam, the bass rolls in, and the drums thunder in.  Halfway through ‘Evening on The Ground’, an electric guitar cuts through the slow moving backwater beats, Beam’s voice is temporarily suspended, and the song rolls on. Its new territory for Beam, but he works it well into the song. It is obviously clumsy guitar work, coming across more as a mad strum than anything else, but it is what the song needs.

While Beam may have moved from his bedroom to the studio, adding more instruments and increasing the production value, his low-toned scarf-and-tea aura remains. By adding his sister into the Iron and Wine family and by making the songs more complex than previous releases, Beam proves he’s almost untouchable when it comes to the limits of music.

The latest offering from M83, Before the Dawn Heals Us, is hauntingly ambitious.  This new album is actually more of a solo effort for French instrumentalist Anthony Gonzalez since his longtime collaborator, Nicolas Fromageau, departed after the release of 2003’s Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts.

Gonzalez has managed to combine elements as varied as Pink Floyd on “Farewell, Goodbye,” Massive Attack on a handful of tracks, and soundtracks composed by the legendary Vangelis. Think “The Bounty” or “Blade Runner” on tracks like “Fields, Shorelines and Hunters.”  Because of those varying degrees of composition, M83 at times sounds like background music for a futuristic movie or background music for a long weekend worth of mushroom popping hallucination.  Either way, the tracks stand out on their own merit and fit best in the genre of “mood music.”

Gonzalez revels and succeeds in creating ambience and atmosphere.  One moment he is lulling the listener with a quiet Coldplay inspired offering on “Let Men Burn Stars “ and the next song he brings out heavy artillery with adrenaline laced chills on “Car Chase Terror”, complete with dialogue that could inspire nightmares to anyone who has ever felt someone was watching them.  Gonzalez’s talent is composing an album that incorporates heart-thumping adrenaline on the aforementioned “Fields, Shorelines and Hunters” and “Don’t Save Us From the Flames” as well as quiet family tinged offerings such as “I Guess I’m Floating” and “Lower Your Eyelids to Die With the Sun.”  The latter track is a strange mixture of noises that drew comparisons to an old Deep Forest album coupled with noises that could only come from repeated watching of the Muppets.

As much as I enjoyed the album, it does stumble on brief moments.  “I Can’t Stop” is a repetitious offering with the vocals repeating the title of the song.  “*” is a song that would best be served as background music for an action movie chase scene. Whereas many songs work remarkably well, even if the sounds are repetitive, those two tracks do little to keep with the tone of the album as a whole.  Also, anyone hoping to gain insight from the lyrics will be disappointed that the lyrics are nothing but aided movement for the songs.  For instance: “How fast we burn! / How fast we cry! / The more we learn / The more we die!”

The highlights of the album include the fast paced “A Guitar and a Heart” and “Teen Angst,” which represent everything that is remarkable about the album, namely tight compositions that are both enjoyable to listen and take the listener on a musical journey.  There is no doubt that Gonzalez has made more than his share of mix tapes in his time and understands quite well how to meld varying tastes and styles into one unique and highly recommended disc.